This blog was started exactly a year ago today, if not in content, but in terms of planning. It was New Years Eve that someone made me believe that this was a project worth doing, and that I could have a voice in a space I created. It was the underlying fear of mine to create this blog. Why? It might expose something of myself that I did not want to share, or it might fall hidden in silence, I might be a failure, and failing after the hours that I have put in is a hard thing to accept. In reality, I am a terrible risk taker, and this blog has not landed critical commenters, or the impassioned rebuttals I dreamed it would. Instead, it has become the space where I could share my ideas, and yet, I held back.
Where did I hold back?
In really putting myself into my work.
This blog is supposed to be based on two things: the existential[ism], coming to terms with ourselves, and Awe, inspiring meaning and embracing the beatific. The two are inadvertently linked. Our love for this world, our passions are intimately related to other people. As I have learned in the past few months (the hard way), our choices do not just ripple once, but ripple through every person we meet. They can destroy lives, hearts, beliefs, and everything we have built our journey upon. If we do not fervently believe them. Sure, we may fail to always achieve our goals, but it is in the struggle towards them and our ability to reconcile mistakes that we really display the people we are.
I am sorry that I have asked you to buy into a project that even I did not wholly believe in. Once upon a time when this blog was started I had numbed myself. I had in some ways accepted a certain lack of confidence, and loneliness into a place it never should have gone. After Jack Kerouac, I call it “my confusion”, the thing that has sent me running following shooting star after shooting star in the search of meaning. I thought I had found The Word, but instead, what I had found was The Road. The Road obliterated Kerouac, it obliterated Cassady, and it in some ways obliterated Sartre. The Road is not an answer, but a process for discovery. My love for the Beats comes from here, from burning, and burning (like yellow roman candles), but hopefully never burning out. For so long, I thought that we could disengage our intellectuallity and our relationships. This was wrong. They are intimately related. While I have asked you to take responsibility, I never stepped onto the streets myself.
I never really considered that I could mean something. That I could bring anything other than my reckless confusion, my own negation. These past few months, I have watched well cemented bridges crumble at my feet, and at the same time, I have been thanked for my involvement in things I feel barely involved in. My passion towards certain projects have gotten people involved, or people hopeful. If I had put more faith in myself, maybe I would have seen that I had meant something to people. Someone told me that before I had ruined one of my closest friendships that I had inspired love and passion in a way people had not experienced it before. My betrayal undercut those messages to other people, because they had now seemed premised on a lie. Everything he had believed in me was now seen as a lie. The reason that he could see that now was because it had always been a lie. It was only a half lie. I did not believe it, but it did not make it any less true. A choice is really a combination of two things, the action and its intent.
I am not writing this to wallow in my own pity, and the title in-and-of-itself should give you some hope that this rather depressing blog post will at some point turn around. That conversation has sparked something in me. In the words of Friedrich Nietzsche “I love those who do not know how to live unless by going under, for they are the ones who cross over.”
The thing I want to say is that I am going to do better. I will begin by trying to embrace the hardest parts of the things I believe, and work towards being the person who can inspire and create pertinent meaning. If I do not believe in what I am doing, how can anyone else? People make mistakes, and I have made some bad ones, because preaching love, hope and optimism, while never really embracing it will never mean anything to anyone. It rings hollow, and when you show them you no longer believe it yourself, the simulation falls apart. If I am unwilling to dirty my hands, and put myself into the spaces I want you to go, then this entire project is nothing more than a champagne socialist pride party, lacking any content and value. If I do not find myself, no one else can.
I should also point out some potential successes I have had on this blog.
My post: “The Second Wave Of Existentialism” is my top post, and that’s probably because it was shared by none other than my hero, Jason Silva. Getting an article (even one that isn’t really your favourite) shared by your personal hero is fantastic.
I tried out a few different projects on here too! One of which was “An Intellectual Selfie”, which tried to toy with the politics of self-representation, while unfinished, was a lot of fun. I might try and restart the project from scratch this year, but who knows! The other piece, which I have really enjoyed writing has been my “countercultures” series, which is really just an attempt at writing stories of peoples lives with meaning. My post on Timothy Leary was also my 5th highest post, so that’s kind of exciting for me!
I guess these posts normally have some sort of “where are you going?” kind of motif to them too. Other than the aforementioned, I will just quote Pierre Elliot Trudeau and say “Just watch me”